Popinjay

The strands of ash locks, drooping low,
They shone as sun rays, striking blow.
As the melody of thin air, damping so,
Made the moistened cheeks glistening glow.

Far away, far beyond the farthest sight
Silks draping, wools wrapping, hems locking
Criss-cross fabrics hanging haywire
As the breeze ruffled sea, chills reigning.

Behind each cloth hiding your skin
Wounds, bruises, gashes, purpling, peeking
Squealing in pain, screaming in agony
Stitches of pretentions started fraying.

Frumpy, fuddy-duddy hackneyed cliché
Whirling in maelstrom, hoisting from void
Masqueraded deceit of all right solace
Trapped the squabbling quiet menace.

Yarns knitted in knots, tangling in pair
Strands curled in tendrils, twirling sway
Feet dug in boots, flicking its way
Fingers hid in mitten, wiggling for pay.

The dearest popinjay of complete despair,
Smashed to smithereens your woes and pain,
Stood in elegance, eyes across the vertical end
Undressed the melancholy wrapping you bend.

Over the word too much is verily enough
Keep for keeps, the weave of heaving rough
The game of hide-and-seek, playing tough
Erudite of lore, do not hide behind a mask.

20170717